Cause and Effect
by iliketocolor
Summary: The darkness around Stiles's heart is killing him. When he can't cope and decides to kill himself, everyone else is left to deal with the fallout. Trigger warning for Suicide and major character death.
1. Chapter 1

**So this takes place after the nematon but Derek never left. **

* * *

Derek silently cursed himself as he sat in his Camaro staring at the graveyard. He should get out of the car. He should join his former pack in mourning. He should cry. He should tell them how he had the chance to save Stiles's life but was too stupid to realize what was happening. But he won't do any of those things. He resigned to sitting in his car, hating himself for giving up on the one person who deserved so much more than Derek was able to give.

Everyone who knew Stiles had showed up for the funeral. The cause of death was known all over town. When the sheriff's only son kills himself, everyone is going to know about it. What no one knew was why. People speculated, of course, but only a couple knew how bad things had gotten for Stiles.

Scott had watched Stiles withdraw from the pack. He knew something was off about Stiles for the past month but Stiles refused to talk about it. Scott eventually let Stiles pull away. He didn't know what else to do. He tried for weeks to be there for Stiles but in the end, it seemed that the more Scott tried, the more Stiles shut down. Scott knew he would blame himself for the rest of his life.

Lydia didn't know how to help Stiles. She had a sense that there was no saving him. Stiles's condition over the past month made Lydia hate being a banshee. She always felt scared for him whenever she was around him. She could tell he was locked in his own head. She could tell he wasn't really there anymore. Stiles was dead and Lydia couldn't figure out why she couldn't help him.

Allison felt selfish. She hadn't paid attention to Stiles lately. She was so freaked out about the darkness around her own heart that she didn't even think that Stiles wasn't able to cope with what the nematon did to him. She knew she held some of the blame.

Isaac wanted to scream. He wanted to wolf out and just run through the woods for days until he was so far away from all the tragedy Beacon Hills had always seemed to hold. He was going to intervene with Stiles soon. He saw how hollow and dark Stiles had become and it was making Isaac sick to have to watch Stiles pull away from everyone. He hated that he was too late. He knew he had a part in Stiles's death.

Sheriff John Stillinski stared at the hole in the ground that was now his son's home. He hadn't seen it coming. He felt like a horrible father. He'd been too worried about saving his job and helping out the town that he didn't even make time to save his own son. John knew he would never recover from this. He didn't really want to. His entire family was gone and there really was no point to pretend that he could be normal again. The only thing that had kept him from following in his son's footsteps was the note he found on Stiles's bed after his body was taken from the bedroom. John would live out the rest of his life in misery with the help of alcohol and work.


	2. Stiles

**Chapter 2**

_One week before._

Stiles sat in his jeep in the parking lot of the high school and stared at the kids entering the school. He felt so tired, not just because he only got about an hour of sleep that night, but because he was just exhausted with life.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew he just had to get through the day and then he could go home and sit. That's really all he seemed to do anymore. He didn't have anything new to research for the pack and he didn't have any energy to do any of the things he used to do. COD tournaments with Scott had been avoided and chess with Isaac was postponed. Stiles would love to be able to sleep but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Even if his body was able to turn off and fall asleep, he was terrified of the nightmares that his subconscious created.

He turned off the jeep and opened his eyes as the first bell rang from the school. He had two minutes to get to his first class. Stiles was grateful that no one could tell something was off about him. He tried to stay away from lengthy conversations but he knew he had to at least pretend to be normal. He made it through the day and turned down another COD tournament with Scott and Isaac.

By the time he got home he just stared at the ceiling for about two hours until Derek texted him. It was weird because Derek had been texting him a lot more recently. Ever since the alpha pack was defeated and things were quieting down, Derek had been trying to stay involved with everyone more than he used to. Stiles figured Derek felt an obligation to stick around for the pack. Stiles had been around the wolf enough to know that he couldn't really care about some stupid useless teenager. At least with Scott and Isaac, Derek had a connection. Stiles was just the extra kid who tagged along.

He picked up his phone and read the text. "_How are you doing?_"

Stiles sighed and quickly texted that he was fine. He didn't want to burden Derek but he knew that Derek could sense something was wrong. It's one of the reasons that Stiles hadn't met with Derek in person for several weeks. If he could, Stiles found an excuse to avoid pack meetings.

Stiles's phone started ringing. Derek was now calling him and Stiles wanted to cry. He rejected the call and waited for the voicemail or the text that would follow.

"_Stiles, will you pick up the damn phone,_" Derek's next text read.

"_Can't really talk now man. What do you need to say?_"

"_I know you're not okay. I could smell the despair on you when I saw you yesterday. You look like shit and you need some fucking help._"

Stiles threw his phone against the wall. Half of him hated that Derek could tell that something was wrong. The other half wanted Derek to care a little more. He wanted Derek to come over and force Stiles to eat for the first time in two days. He wanted Derek to come over and yell at him, take off the kid gloves and make Stiles figure out what was really wrong.

But Stiles knew that wasn't going to happen. Everyone always gave up on Stiles and Derek was going to be next. In all honesty, Stiles knew that no one else was responsible for saving him but himself. He knew they would all help him if he just sat down and asked but he couldn't do that. He would rather die than force people to help him. He didn't want to talk about anything. He was tired of everything. He finally felt himself drift off to sleep.

He was only asleep for about an hour before he woke up screaming. He could feel the tears fall down his cheeks and he could barely breathe. He quickly realized that this was no way to live his life. He felt hopeless he knew he didn't want this anymore. He didn't want to keep going with anything. He had thought about killing himself for about a week now but for some reason he had kept talking himself out of it. That didn't mean he didn't think about every single way he could kill himself. He thought about crashing his jeep every single time he was in it. Every morning as he took his Adderall he thought about downing the entire bottle. Every time he passed quarry he thought about jumping to his death.

He finally got out of bed and made it for the first time in months. He couldn't stop crying as he wrote his suicide note. He knew he couldn't leave his dad with no explanation. He stared around his room and thought about cleaning it. He really thought that it might make things better for whoever finds him but for the life of him he couldn't make his body move. He gently touched the board he'd put over his bedroom window. It was three weeks ago that he realized he hated the natural light that was always streaming in. Plus it helped keep the werewolves out.

He picked up his phone and put the battery back in, turning it on and deciding he kind of hoped it didn't break. It started up and showed three missed calls and twelve texts from Derek plus a missed call from Scott. There was one voicemail from Derek. Stiles almost didn't listen to it. He couldn't understand why he decided to listen.

"Stiles, I'm really fucking worried. If you don't call me back by nine tonight I'm coming over."

The last thing Stiles wanted was for Derek to come over. He quickly hit the call button and waited for Derek to answer. He cleared his throat as Derek answered.

"Stiles-"

"Hey Derek. I'm sorry man. I was just busy and couldn't answer. I'm good, really." Stiles was so glad that Derek wasn't in the room to hear his heart skip a beat as he lied.

"Stiles, I know you're lying. I don't know why you can't just let everyone help you but it's bullshit."

"Derek. It doesn't matter if you think I'm lying or not. I've been handling things just fine, okay? I just want you to know I've appreciated you trying to help but it's something I'll deal with on my own."

"Look, I don't want to push you but I think you should really show up to the pack meeting tomorrow. You haven't been to one in weeks."

"I'll see if I can make it," Stiles lied. He wasn't planning on going and he wasn't planning living much longer anyway.

Stiles hung up with Derek and settled in the corner of his room with a razor he took from the bathroom and figured bleeding out would be the easiest way to die. He had less of a chance of fucking it up this way. He found peace as he set the razor against his wrists. He could feel himself stop crying as the pain radiated through his arm. He watched the blood rush out of his arm and he quickly made an identical cut up his other arm. He closed his eyes and sighed as he felt happy for the first time in months.


	3. Stillinski

It had been a long day for Sheriff Stilinski. He had spent too much time dealing with people who didn't know what they were doing and getting fed up with the bureaucracy of trying to help the community.

The house was dark when he got home and Stiles's jeep was sitting in the driveway. Usually Stiles would turn on the porch light when John had a late night at work. It was kind of odd to come home to a dark house but John didn't really think much of it.

"Stiles, you here?" John shouted as he closed the front door behind him. He turned on the nearest light and took his time shrugging off his jacket and taking off his boots.

John looked at his watch- 11:19. He hoped Stiles actually went to sleep for once. John wasn't home a lot but he did know that his son wasn't sleeping as much as he needed to. Stiles was usually awake no matter what hour John came home at. Even when John would finally take himself to bed he'd still hear Stiles doing god knows what in his bedroom.

After a stop in the kitchen for some water, John made his way upstairs to get some much needed sleep. He quietly knocked on Stiles's door.

"Stiles, you awake?" John hesitated before knocking again and then finally just opening the door. There was no light in the room at all. No moonlight, not glowing numbers of a clock or a green button of a computer. John was hit with a wave of metallic air, iron to be precise. He had been a cop long enough to know the smell of blood.

He quickly flipped the light switch on the wall, illuminating the image he'd never get out of his head. Stiles's bed was neatly made, the only order amidst the room full of chaos. The walls were covered with clippings and pictures, posters and papers- the usual wallpapering that Stiles had continued to add to every day. There were clothes and papers scattered all over the floor. The window was blocked off by a large piece of plywood that John knew had come from the basement. Stiles's limp body was curled up in the farthest corner of the room, blood soaking the lower half of his body and the floor around him.

John ran to his son and took him in his arms, feeling, hoping, for a pulse. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks as the blood began to soak into his clothes.

"Oh god, what have you done? Stiles? STILES!" John could find a pulse.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called for an ambulance, knowing they'd really need a hearse.

It was eight minutes later that two EMTs and the deputy from the police station arrived and found the sheriff still sobbing and clutching the shell that used to hold his son's soul.

"John… They need to take him," Deputy Eric Gillus said calmly. He started to cry too as he took John's hands in his own and unclenched them from Stile's body.

Once John let go, the EMTs took Stiles's body out of the room on a stretcher, sparing the sheriff of seeing his son in a body bag.

"Let's get you out of here," Eric said, drying his own tears. He'd known Stiles since he was born; this was the last thing he'd imagined would ever happen.

John didn't say anything as he got off the floor and followed Eric out of the room.

Eric led John down the stairs and sat him in a chair at the kitchen table, flipping on a light as they entered the room.

John stared blankly at the wall. He didn't know procedure for this kind of thing. He knew the police side of it- the statements, the reports, the comforting of the family- but he never thought he'd be on the other side of it. Who was he supposed to call first? How was he going to say out loud that his son is dead? When does he go into Stiles's room and clean up the blood soaked carpet? How does he sleep tonight? How does he continue to breathe?

"John? Can I take you to the hospital? I need to take you to the hospital?" One of the EMTs says softly.

John's eyes meet her face and it's gentle but he doesn't care. He wants to destroy everything around him. He finally takes a deep breath and gets up from the chair, letting the EMT and Eric guide him out of the house. He briefly hears Eric mention that they had been sitting at the table for ten minutes, something about being in shock, making sure he's taken care of tonight. All he knows is that he's riding to the hospital in the same vehicle that holds his son's dead body. John's pretty sure this can't be real.

* * *

Surprisingly the hospital isn't too busy. There was a minor car accident and so there are two people in the ER but they'll survive. Melissa is among the three nurses and morgue technician that meet the ambulance at the entrance. She quickly takes John to the room he'll spend the night in and just hugs him as they cry.

Melissa overheard the ambulance relay the Stillinski address as they were coming back to the hospital. She had no idea what could have happened until she heard, "suicide of a minor… Bringing in father for shock and possible 24 hour supervision."

"John," Melissa finally spoke, putting herself back together so she could take charge. "I'm staying with you here, all night. You're in shock." She wanted to tell him they would stay until he's better. She wanted to tell him that things will be alright. But she knew that things were never going to be alright and John would never get better. There was no getting over this.

* * *

It would have been a longer night had John's body not finally succumbed to exhaustion. He didn't even notice when he fell asleep, but when he finally was, he never wanted to wake up again. He dreamt. Dreamt of Stiles. Dreamt of his wife. They were together now, happy, healthy. They were having a family picnic in the woods on the edge of the lake like they used to when Stiles was really little. It was a gorgeous day and nothing could ever be wrong as long as days like this existed. They must have just finished eating and Stiles was joking around as usual.

"Alright, I got another one. What do you get when you put a police officer in a sleeping bag?" Stiles grins and looks with anticipation at his dad. "Pig in a blanket."

The small family laughs and John honestly loves when Stiles tells stupid cop jokes.

"Hon, why are you crying?" Claudia asked sweetly, watching her husband.

John wiped tears from his cheek and then stared at his wet fingers. "I… don't know."

"Come on dad, you're never this sensitive about stupid police jokes. You always loved them." Stiles said, popping a grape into his mouth.

"No, Stiles… I do. It was great." John choked back a sob. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to ruin the day like this. I don't know what's wrong."

"It's 'cause you're alone now dad." Stiles said nonchalantly, lying on his back in the grass. "People always cry when they feel completely and utterly alone."

"Stiles…" John stared at his wife as she started to fade.

"Don't worry about it dad. You didn't ruin the picnic. Mom and I did. The dead tend to do that."

They sit there for a minute and then Stiles sits up briefly. "Hey dad, how many cop jokes are there?"

John watches his son wait to say the punch line. He seems so alive in that moment. "I don't know Stiles. How many?"

"Just one, all the rest are true!" Stiles laughs and as soon as John blinks, Stiles is gone too.

John is left with the echo of a family that never had a chance.

* * *

"John, wake up," Melissa says as she gently shakes him.

John can feel dried tears on his face and his throat is sore. "Melissa…"

"Hey," she smiles weakly. She wished she didn't have to wake him up but he was crying so much in his sleep.

"I can't do this Melissa. I can't be here. But I can't go back there. How do I go back to that?" John's voice cracked and Melissa handed him a cup of water.

"Eric was saying he could get some officers over to your house to clean up. You can stay with Scott and I if you want. We have an extra room."

"Scott… have you told him yet," John asked quietly, not looking at her.

"No. I called him around 9 this morning but he didn't answer so I left a message for him to come here as soon as he wakes up. We probably have another hour before he rolls out of bed."

"What time is it? It's almost 11." Melissa glances at her watch.

"I found him almost 12 hours ago…" John didn't like that that thought had come into his head, but he figured he'd always be counting. For the rest of his life there would be an anniversary of Stiles's death.

"I know…" Melissa didn't know what else to say. The coroner had come and wanted to speak to John but Melissa shooed him away until she could know John was ready.

"John. Whenever you feel up to it, you do need to speak to the coroner. He came by about an hour ago."

John sighed. "Let's just get this over with."

For some reason John really wanted to do everything immediately. He wanted to give his statement to Eric, talk with the coroner, plan the funeral… everything. The sooner the business of death was taken care of, the sooner John could sit alone and do nothing for the rest of his life.

* * *

John finally got home and didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't want to be in this house ever again but it's the only connection that he had left to his dead family. He knew he should have stopped at the liquor store before he came home but he was too tired. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea but he went to Stiles's room anyway, almost as if he would walk in and see Stiles sitting at his desk doing some research for something and none of the past 15 hours would be real.

He seemed to stand outside the door for an hour but he eventually slowly opened the door. He was hit with the smell of bleach as soon as he opened the door. His eyes avoided what would now forever be known as Stiles's corner. He looked back over to the neatly made bed and saw what he missed when he was there hours ago.

_Dad. I'm sorry. I can't imagine that you'll ever be okay. I think that's the only reason I've held off as long as I have. Truth time dad, I've wanted to kill myself for almost a month. But I know you needed me around. But I can't handle it anymore. I can't sleep anymore. I think I've been awake for three days now. When I do sleep it's only these horrid waking nightmares that leave me thinking I'm going insane… That whole nematon thing that Scott, Allison, and I did to find you guys a while ago, yeah… that had some side effects. Specifically this darkness thing. Deaton told us we'd feel it. We'd feel a darkness around our hearts for the rest of our lives. We didn't care about that though. We had to do it. We had to find you guys. I'd still make the same decision over again though. Even though the darkness feels more like it's rooted into my soul and it's eating me alive. _

_Don't go off the deep end dad. Please. Call it my dying wish if you want. Just keep going. This town needs you. Take care of yourself. Don't start drinking again. Don't eat so much crap. You can live into old age and mom and I will be here waiting to hear about all the adventures you had after we left. _

_I love you dad. _

_Stiles_

John wanted to rip the paper to shreds. If it hadn't been that these were the last words his son had ever written, John would have shredded it and burned the remains before burying the ashes. He didn't want to believe how bad it had gotten for Stiles. He didn't want this to be real. He didn't want Stiles's dying wish to be that John has to keep living.

He folded the paper back the way he found it and sat on Stiles's bed. It still smelled like him. The bleach smell from the deputies cleaning the floor hadn't seeped into the sheets, blankets, and clothes. It was there that John fell asleep, curled up in his son's bed with the suicide note.

* * *

**AN: **So I liked the first chapter and this one. The second one was kind of lame. I just kind of lost what I was really going for with this fic so it's not my best work. I just know there's so many depressed!Stiles fics out there and I kind of wanted this to be slightly different. But whatever.


	4. Isaac

Isaac was the last to find out. He woke up from a nap to the sound of Scott screaming. He bolted up from bed and ran out to the living room finding Scott sobbing into his mother's chest. She had a few tears running down her cheeks as she tried to comfort her son. A million things were running through Isaac's mind as he stood watching his makeshift family's heart break. He couldn't imagine what could have happened but Isaac came to the conclusion that someone was seriously injured if not dead. As Scott's voice began to break and he couldn't scream anymore, Isaac enveloped them in a hug. After a minute Isaac finally heard Scott whisper through his sobs, "Stiles."

Isaac let go of Scott and Melissa and stepped back.

"Isaac, honey. Stiles… killed himself," Melissa nearly whispered.

Isaac didn't cry. He just shook his head. Stiles wasn't allowed to be dead. He was the tough, quirky, human part of the pack. Isaac slowly backed out of the living room. He wasn't ready to deal with this. It wasn't happening; he was still dreaming. Before he knew it he found himself running out of the house. He had no idea where he was running to but he knew what he was running from.

It wasn't until he was deep into the woods that he stopped to breath. He leaned his back against a nearby tree and collapsed onto the ground. He couldn't understand why Stiles would be dead. Isaac tried to think but there were so many thoughts that he just wanted to shut off his brain. He tried to think about the last time he saw Stiles. It was definitely Friday at school. He tried to think of what he last said to Stiles. He couldn't think of that as quickly. He was pretty sure he'd at least said hello on Friday. He didn't remember Stiles eating lunch with the group that day. He tried to think of the last time he even had a long conversation with Stiles. They used to play chess at least once a week but they hadn't done that in weeks. Isaac didn't even really notice that Stiles had started to pull away. Isaac just started to occupy himself with other people and hobbies.

Isaac sat on the forest floor until the sun went down. He knew he had to go back but he wasn't sure he was ready to face the reality he had to go back to. By the time he got home it was dark and the house was quiet. He found Melissa and Scott sleeping, curled up on the couch. He didn't want to disturb them but he wasn't sure he wanted to be alone anymore. He curled up on the floor and fell asleep knowing things would never be the same.


	5. Allison

Allison was cleaning weapons in the basement when she found out the news. Her father came down and watched her for a minute, delaying the evitable sorrow that was about to fill her life and everyone around them.

Finally when she finished the weapon she was working on, he went over and kissed the top of her head. "Allison honey," Chris Argent said taking the gun from her hand. "We need to talk about something."

"Hmm? Yeah dad, what's up?" She let him take the gun and she wiped her hands on the rag in front of her.

"Stiles killed himself last night." He knew it was blunt, but death was a part of life and there was no getting around it.

"Dad, if this is another test, I'm not taking it." Allison stared at her father hoping his serious expression would fade. "I'm serious dad, don't tell me this." Allison could feel tears threatening to fall as her brain began to realize that her father was telling the truth.

"I'm so sorry sweetie." Chris pulled his daughter into a tight hug and stroked her hair, not sure how to make things okay.

Allison sobbed into her father's chest for a couple minutes until she finally released him and dried her eyes. She was stronger than this. She was learning to compartmentalize like her father had always been able to do. "Sorry… I'll just finish up here. The pack will probably want to meet or something."

"Allison, it's okay not to be okay. You don't have to be so strong on this one." Chris knew that he needed to train his daughter to be emotionally strong, but this was different. A time for training would come later; right now she needed to be a grieving teenage girl.

"I know, but I'll be fine dad. I just need to finish this. I need to do something…" She turned back to the table with the weapons and she picked up the gun she's been using to train. She wasn't one for using guns, but she needed to know how to use one perfectly. Her hands were shaking as she realized that Stiles could have used a gun to kill himself. She was surrounded by deadly objects and Stiles was dead.

Chris took the gun from her hand and guided her out of the basement. "The pack is meeting later tonight. Other people are still finding out."

"I'm… I'll just go take a nap." Allison didn't know what else to do. She wanted to keep busy but she didn't think that she could possibly do anything except curl up in bed and cry.

So that's how she handled Stiles death, curled up under the covers crying herself to sleep because she knew that someone should have been there to save Stiles and she couldn't understand how this world could let this happen. The darkness around her heart seemed to expand as she realized that the darkness is probably what killed him. She had been keeping a grip on realty most every day. She struggled sometimes but she was able to handle it. She couldn't imagine what Stiles had been going through.

She felt so guilty for not being there more for Stiles. If anyone was going to be able to relate to him it would have been her and Scott but she dropped the ball on this one. She didn't even try to reach out and make sure that he was okay every day. She took him for granted and now he was gone.

* * *

**AN: Sorry the chapters are getting shorter. I'll make it up to you with a super awesome pack meeting chapter or something...**


	6. Lydia

Lydia knew the moment it happened. She was sitting in her room doing her chemistry homework when she suddenly knew she had to be somewhere else. She couldn't focus on her work anymore as faint white noise seemed to overpower her mind. She knew she had to get up and follow the noises. She knew what this meant. Someone was dead. Her gut reaction to this was always to follow the noises- find the bodies. But this was different. She stared at her door and didn't think she could move. This was big and the noise started getting louder, filling up the room around her and forcing her out of her house.

She walked through the streets of Beacon Hills, unable to prepare herself for the death she knew she'd find. She found herself standing in front of Stiles's house. It was completely dark and she didn't need to go inside to know the tragedy was inside. She could feel the scream welling up inside her and she began to cry as she realized she couldn't do this. She didn't want to find this body. She would find any other body… just not this one. She ignored the noises filling her head and ran the opposite way. She didn't know where to go; she just couldn't be the one to find Stiles. She wasn't ready to think about it. She ran back to her house and locked herself in her bedroom. She needed to scream. It was boiling in her stomach and threatening to rip through her throat.

The words- Stiles is dead- filled her mind. She hated that this was her ability. Finding dead bodies was always hard for her, but this one was enough. She didn't want this information. She wanted to be wrong. She had to be wrong. There was no threat against the pack; there were no random murders or special sacrifices. No one should be dead.

She thought about the others. Someone would have to find him. Someone would have to tell the rest of the pack. Lydia pulled her phone out of her pocket and stared at it. It wasn't fair that she was always the one to break the news of death. She tossed her phone on her bed, deciding that she couldn't be the one to do this.

She finally closed her eyes and let a scream emanate from her body. Her small body shook as any mirrors and glass around her room broke. As the last of her scream escaped her mouth, she collapsed on the floor of her bedroom.


	7. Scott

Scott rolled out of bed around 11:45 that morning. He didn't have any plans for the day but he thought he might try and see if Stiles wanted to hang out. Stiles had been dodging his calls and avoiding conversations at school lately. Now that Scott finally had some free time, he figured he'd force the kid to hang out.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, Scott checked his phone. He had a voicemail from his mom and a text from Derek.

_Pack meeting tonight. Make sure Stiles shows._

Scott didn't really have control over what Stiles did anymore, but he'd try. He didn't reply to Derek but he listened to the voice mail from his mom.

"Hey honey. Hopefully I'll be home around 12:30 this afternoon. If you get this before then, it might be good to come down to the hospital. Um… I love you, see you soon."

Scott could tell something was off in his mother's voice. This wasn't just a call for him to bring her lunch. This was that something big was happening. He quickly got in the shower and tried not to think about what could have happened. Was there another threat to the pack and the pack would be talking about it at the meeting today? Were they too late already?

He was downstairs and almost out the door at 12:18 when his mother walked in. She could see a slight worry in his face but he was trying to stay calm until he found out if something was actually wrong.

Melissa set down her keys and took off her shoes before guiding her son into the living room.

"Mom, what's going on?"

"Scott, honey. I have some bad news." Melissa could feel her eyes welling with tears. She never wanted to have to tell her son this kind of news. She never wanted him to be in as much pain as he was about to be.

"Last night… "She took a deep breath as her son stared at her expectantly. "Stiles killed himself."

Scott didn't blink. He didn't move. He just stared at her like she hadn't just said the worst thing in the world.

"Scott…" Melissa said gently.

Scott shook his head and tried to process his new reality. Stiles wasn't just dead. Stiles had killed _himself. _

Scott tried to resist the embrace his mother was wrapping him into but he couldn't fight her. He let out a very human scream that rivaled his alpha's roar. He let his mother envelope his entire body as he screamed into her chest and let his tears fall.

He didn't even notice when Isaac had shown up. He'd forgotten Isaac was even in the house. Scott felt Isaac hug them both. Finally, Scott's throat was raw and he could only whisper Stiles's name.

"Stiles… not Stiles…"

As he felt Isaac release the hug, Scott wished he was deaf so he wouldn't have to hear his mother whisper the words again.

"Isaac, honey. Stiles… killed himself."

Scott felt another wave of tears rush through him as he sobbed. His mother held him tighter until he stopped shaking and he seemed to run out of tears.

To Melissa, they seemed to be on the living room floor for hours. To Scott, time seemed to not exist anymore. In reality, it was 1:15 when Melissa helped her son stand up and move to the couch. She only left him briefly to get him a glass of water.

Scott slowly drank the water and stared at the floor. He just wanted to shut off his brain. He wanted to kills himself too. He kept thinking back to the time Stiles saved him from killing himself in the motel. None of this made sense and none of it was fair. Scott could feel anger welling up inside of him. He wanted to bring Stiles back from the dead just so he could kill him again for making him feel this way. He needed Stiles to be here to help him through this. He needed his best friend to help him through his best friend's death and that was the worst part.

Melissa took the empty glass of water from Scott and set it on the coffee table. She curled up with her son on the couch, running her hands through his hair until he fell asleep.


	8. Derek

Derek found out at 9:22 Saturday morning. He desperately wished he was trapped in some nightmare that he could wake up from at any minute. But the more he stood there, staring at the blood soaked spot on Stiles's floor, he knew even his subconscious couldn't dream up something this devastating.

He hadn't gotten a ton of sleep that night. He hadn't liked the way he left things with Stiles and for most of the night he debated whether or not he should go over to Stiles's house and force the kid to open up. But around midnight he fell into a restless sleep. He dreamt of the fire, as he still often did, but this time his new pack was the one burning; Scott, Stiles, Isaac, Allison, Lydia- all of them screaming at Derek, asking why he wouldn't help them as they burned.

Derek woke in a cold sweat at 8AM. He showered slowly, trying to wash away the guilt for bringing all these teenagers into this kind of miserable life. He finally shut off the water and got ready for the day. He knew he had to say something meaningful to these kids. They didn't have a new threat against the pack but that just meant something big was coming up. Derek could feel it in his bones. He didn't know what it could be but he knew life was about to change again. He texted Scott and told him to make sure Stiles was going to show up.

Derek stared at his phone after sending the text and thought about calling Stiles again. He wasn't sure why, it's not like he was ever really close to the kid, but something was pulling at him. Stiles had saved Derek's life plenty of times on pure human ability, not special wolf skills or banshee hearing. He was just Stiles and that was more than enough.

Derek shoved his phone in his pocket and decided to just show up at Stiles's house. He pulled up to the Stillinski house and felt a sinking feeling in his gut. The Sheriff's police cruiser was there but so was another one. The house was dark and Derek could see from the outside that Stiles's window was boarded up. He slowly got out of his car and walked to the front door. The house seemed oddly peaceful but reeked of death and sorrow. To his surprise, the door was unlocked and as Derek walked in, no one was there. He followed his instinct and went to Stiles's room. The smell of bleach and blood hit him as he came face to face with a deputy.

"Excuse me. You can't be in here," the deputy said forcefully.

Derek stared at the blood-stained carpet and didn't know what to say. "No… No, I'm a friend. I'm Stiles's friend… where is he?" He asked breathlessly.

"I'm so sorry, son. Stiles killed himself last night." The deputy put his hand on Derek's shoulder and Derek had to stop himself from glaring at the man. "I'll give you a minute but I do need to clean this up before the sheriff gets back."

Derek could feel part of his soul crumble away. He knew what that meant but he wasn't ready to believe it. He couldn't think about that now. He had to figure out why Stiles would do this. He had to understand what could have possibly happened in Stiles's last moments. He cautiously walked into the room as if there was some enemy waiting in the closet or under the bed. He tried to notice anything out of place or anything too _in _place. It was hard when everything was such a mess. That's when he saw a single piece of paper folded near the pillow on Stiles's bed. He took it hesitantly and read Stiles's last words. He hadn't expected it to be addressed to him. But he felt wrong reading something so personally meant for the sheriff. He folded it again and placed it back on the bed. He held back tears as he looked around the room again. He wanted to tear all the useless papers off the wall. He wanted to burn the plywood covering the window and shatter the glass behind it. He needed to destroy something so it could match how destroyed he felt inside.

He moved closer towards the corner and saw Stiles's cell phone. He quickly listened to make sure the deputy wasn't coming back upstairs yet and then grabbed the phone. It was running dangerously low on battery but it had enough energy to let Derek see that he was the last one to talk to Stiles. This information was too much for him. Derek dropped the phone and left the house, not even acknowledging the deputy on his way out.

He got into his Camaro and drove. Taking the longest stretch of highway he could, Derek sped out of Beacon Hills. He drove until he was nearly out of gas, leaving him about 100 miles out of town when he pulled over and let out the most heart-wrenching howl that had ever come out of his body. He let his tears fall as he got back in his car and found a gas station. He knew he would have to go back for the toughest pack meeting of his life.

He wasn't sure if he was going to tell the pack that Stiles was his mate. He knew it might help them understand why this has rocked Derek to his core, but at the same time, it wouldn't make anything better. It might actually make things worse, especially since Derek only just found out about it that morning.

It was the moment that he felt a part of his soul die that Derek knew Stiles was meant to be so much more to him. Mating is weird that way and Derek wished that he had paid more attention when he'd had the chance. He wasn't just born knowing who his mate was going to be. He was supposed to slowly figure it out but Derek had been too preoccupied to pay attention to the signs the universe had tried to throw at him. Derek never guessed his mate would be a nosy, hyper-active, teenage human.

He drove back to Beacon Hills much slower than he'd driven out of it, wishing that he could just crash his car and join Stiles in whatever afterlife he ended up in.

* * *

**A/N: **So I wasn't sure if I wanted them to be mates or not because I don't feel strongly one way or the other. But the one thing I do think is that if they were mates, Derek wouldn't just instinctively know. But whatever. Hopefully this chapter met your expectations. I actually think it's a pretty good chapter, but let me know.

Thanks to all of you who keep reviewing, it makes me so happy and keeps me going.


	9. Pack

None of them could have imagined a worse pack meeting than the one they were about to walk into. It was nearing 9 PM when they all finally gathered into Derek's loft. The members of what was left of their small pack sat quietly after finding their usual places on the sparse furniture in the loft. Everyone's eyes avoided the spot that Stiles would have normally occupied: the corner seat in between Scott and Derek.

Derek wished he had been able to think of anything to say, even just something to say to start the meeting, but he had nothing.

Lydia ended up being the first one to say something. She couldn't stand the quiet any longer and she couldn't stop herself from crying.

"I'm sorry." She wiped some tears from her cheeks as the rest of the group looked to her. "It's my fault. I should have known. I should have been able to see it coming, not just find out when it happened."

Allison gently grabbed Lydia's hand and squeezed it. "None of us saw this coming Lydia. It's not your fault. None of us are at fault."

"Or maybe all of us are," Scott said quietly. "We all should have tried to help him. We all knew something was off with him. He wasn't handling this whole darkness thing as well as you and I were, Allison. I don't care if you don't feel it's your fault. I don't think it's your fault. It's mine and I know it. I was a shitty friend who wasn't there for him-"

"I do feel guilty, Scott. There's just another, logical part, of my brain that knows we're not the reason Stiles did this," Allison interrupted. It hurt to say his name but she tried not to cry. She'd cried enough already.

"You guys don't understand," Lydia said. "I knew when he died. I was feeling death and before I knew it, I was in front of his house. I knew he had died but I couldn't go in. I left him in there for someone else- for his dad- to find. I just. I didn't want to be the one to find his body like that… I'm sorry."

"Lydia, if you knew he was dead, then it was already too late. It's okay that you didn't go in. You don't always have to be the one to find the dead," Isaac said in an attempt to comfort her.

"Look. Let's all stop trying to figure out who feels the most to blame. Okay? Because yeah, we all should have tried to help more. I know I could have done a whole hell of a lot more for the kid, but he's gone now and there's nothing we can do but move on." Derek wasn't sure why he had taken such a callous approach in talking to the pack. He didn't mean to come off so insensitive. He just couldn't handle all the emotion in the room at the moment. He regretted having the pack meeting without Stiles. He didn't want to be part of a pack without Stiles. Not anymore.

No one knew what to say. Now would have been the time in a normal pack meeting when Stiles would have made a witty comment to ease the tension. It made Derek feel worse. Almost everyone always found Stiles's comments immature and annoying, but now that Stiles was gone, Derek finally understood how invaluable Stiles's role was; how calculated most of Stiles's comments were, and how, without even knowing it, the whole pack needed him there to keep everyone from going crazy.

"So what do we do now?" Isaac asked quietly, not directing his question at anyone in particular.

That was the question on everyone's minds. What were they supposed to do now? Their best researcher, best human, best friend, was now gone and there didn't seem to be anywhere to move on to.

"We just keep going," Derek finally said after a minute. "We just do what Stiles would have wanted us to do. We keep protecting this town and each other. We give ourselves time to deal with this and the fucked-up way we all feel now, and then we keep going because we don't have another choice."

Derek ran his hand over his face and sighed. "So, let's make this the only pack meeting about him. We get all the shit out that we need to say and then we don't talk about it unless we have to. I know this will be with us forever, but right now, we can say and feel however we want. This pack meeting is our memorial to him. We can share all the great or shitty stories about him we want, just between us- his pack."

He didn't really feel like he could say much to these kids about what was going on in his head, but he knew they all needed to spill their hearts and souls out to each other and use this time to grieve because after this, they all had to be strong and get back to protecting the town from whatever new bullshit was going to come their way.

"He would have laughed at us for sitting around and feeling like this." Scott was the first to speak up. He stared at the table in front of him and just let his thoughts out. "He would have made a joke about how we're all moping around and this isn't a big deal."

Scott could feel tears stinging his eyes and he felt like he would rather implode than talk about his brother in the past tense like this. "I just can't stop thinking about how he saved my life so much. He talked me out of burning myself alive but I wasn't there to return the favor… and I guess I'm pissed at myself for all this, but I'm furious with him too. Like, why the fuck does he get to just… kill himself and leave us here to deal with that?"

Scott didn't expect anyone to answer. He knew there were no answers to his million questions, and that upset him too. He didn't feel like talking anymore. He felt more like killing himself too, rather than spend one more second in this pack meeting without Stiles. But he just wiped the tears from his face and let his gaze drift to the floor.

"I think he'd be mad too though," Isaac said. "Like, his thought process was always one step ahead of the rest of us and he would start to get impatient with people when their brains weren't as quick to come up with conclusions. It's like, since he had all this other shit going on in his head, he forgot that he was actually smarter than most people."

"I think he did know that but he didn't want to admit it and he certainly didn't want to be conventionally smart. He wouldn't try to get good grades, he'd just learn about all the other random things he could. He knew what he was doing and he always used his knowledge in order to help people rather than himself." Lydia couldn't help but give a sad smile as she remembered Stiles struggling to pay attention in class and trying to make his brain function the way teachers taught him it should instead of just letting his mind race and pick up all the information it could.

"He seemed to want to use his genius to learn about the people around him rather than facts in a book," Lydia concluded. She sometimes envied the way he could just soak up information about the people around him and catch onto what people were going to do just because he could read a room better than most.

They spent the better part of an hour sharing memories of Stiles. Most of the stories were good but the group ended in tears after the stories were over anyway.

Derek was the only one who wasn't crying by the end of the night. He had stayed silent most of the time, just laughing at the appropriate times and trying to think of any stories that he could share that didn't make him seem like a jerk to Stiles. Derek didn't know what to add. He didn't feel like he should say anything. He certainly hadn't been the best friend to Stiles that the rest of them had been. He was just the douchebag alpha who demanded too much and never showed any appreciation.

It was midnight by the time everyone started heading home.

Scott seemed to linger back for just a second after everyone else. "You're good right Derek? You didn't say much tonight."

"I'm fine Scott. What could I say? The kid saved my life a couple times and I was an ass to him when he didn't deserve it. I liked the kid, so this is hard for me too, but I didn't grow up with him like you guys did, so I just want you guys to be okay as much as possible." Derek plastered on the best sympathetic smile he could come up with and was glad that he had been able to control his heartbeat through the lies.

"Okay. Well… I'll see you later." Scott wanted to say more. He felt like he needed to tell everyone everything that he's thinking about them now, while they're all still here.

* * *

**A/N: **the beginning dialogue seems sort of rushed to me but let me know.

In good news, I have decided there are several more chapters to come. As I was writing this and the next chapter I found that there are several more chapters worth of things. So don't worry it's not over yet.


	10. Chapter 10

It had been a month sense the funeral and Derek hadn't seen anyone since. He took off for about two weeks, driving anywhere and drinking anything to keep his mind off Stiles. He had texted Scott before he left. Kept it brief- told Scott he had a few things to take care of out of state and he'd be back in a couple weeks, text if there's an emergency.

But there was no emergency. No one was paying any attention to the town anymore. Allison's father took out a lone Omega about a week after the funeral, but it was nothing to cause any panic. So Derek stayed away until he figured out that he was just running from something that was always going to follow him. He ended up back in Beacon Hills after his two weeks but he didn't let anyone know he was back. He just went back to his loft and drifted along his path of self-destruction.

He hated himself for being so affected. Sure, the kid was meant to be his mate, but there would be other mates now that Stiles was gone. Derek just wished he could have stopped it. He knew he should have trusted his instincts that night and just went over to the Stiles's house. He should have tried harder, learned quicker… been better. He should have been a better friend to Stiles and actually paid attention to signs that Stiles was his mate.

Derek had ample time to reanalyze every interaction he had ever had with Stiles. Every time Stiles saved Derek's life, their bond grew stronger, but Derek ignored it. Every time Derek went back to save Stiles's life or to make sure Stiles was okay after an attack or a fight, their bond grew, but Derek didn't pay attention.

Derek spent most of his days asleep and most of his nights in a drunken haze. Some days, he would let himself wolf-out and run through the woods, but those days were rare. He usually didn't feel like going anywhere. He hadn't noticed when he stopped eating every day. He didn't pay attention to how much he was drinking, sleeping, or hurting himself.

He had started up a new habit of hurting himself as much as he could some days. He would break his bones just to watch the wolf heal them. He would stab himself in random places just to see how quickly the wounds would heal. He didn't know why he started this, he just knew that it passed the time and it reminded him that he was still alive even though Stiles was dead.

Scott showed up in the loft on a Thursday. Derek wasn't sure why Scott was there or how he even figured out that Derek was back. He just wished Scott wasn't there to see the wreck that Derek had become.

Scott could smell blood as he walked up to Derek's door. He didn't even bother knocking, fearing that Derek was hurt or worse.

The loft was a mess when Scott opened the door. It reeked of stale alcohol, blood, and despair. Empty bottles littered almost every surface and Derek was sitting in the middle of his couch with a half empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a knife stabbed into his left leg. Scott's instinct was to run over and remove the knife and make sure there wasn't an enemy still somewhere in the loft. But on a second thought, Scott realized Derek was the only enemy in the room. He took a swig of whiskey and looked at the knife like it was just part of his leg that had always been there.

Scott approached Derek calmly but quickly. "Derek, what's going on here?"

Derek ignored the question and instead pulled the knife out of his leg, letting a hiss of relief escape his mouth. "Scott. What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you. Which apparently, I should have done a while ago." Scott watched Derek drop the knife onto the couch and set the bottle on the coffee table.

"Well, nice seeing you. I'm off to bed. Until next time." Derek slurred as he tried to stand up.

Scott pushed the alpha back onto the couch, not that it took much effort. "How long have you been like this, man?"

Derek stared at his hand and acted like he was counting with his fingers. "Since day one."

"Day one of what?" Scott had the general idea, but he needed Derek to say it.

"Stiles. After the funeral. Doesn't matter." Derek was getting slightly angry. He hadn't actually talked out loud in weeks and now Scott was here and making him mention Stiles.

"Are you kidding me? Derek, why do you even care so much? I know he was part of the pack, but you barely interacted with him unless lives were in danger."

"Don't worry about it. This is something I'll deal with on my own. It's hard to explain and you don't need to know."

"Fine, don't explain it." Scott was trying to hide how angry Derek was making him. Derek was acting as if he was the only one who lost someone important. "Sit here and waste away, leaving the rest of the pack to figure out this whole werewolf shit on our own. But by all means, isolate yourself from the only people left on this earth that actually care about you and know what you're going through."

"God damn-" Derek sighed with a low growl in his voice. "Stiles was my mate. Okay? I haven't had the whole werewolf 'birds and bees' talk with you, but mating is different for werewolves. I didn't even know he was supposed to be my mate until I found out he was dead. I should have known; there were signs. But I didn't have the time or energy to deal with actually letting our bond as mates grow. Now he's dead and if I had paid even the slightest bit more attention to him, he might still be here."

"So you blame yourself because you didn't realize you and Stiles were-" Scott didn't really know if he wanted to complete that sentence. He couldn't really wrap his mind around the whole idea.

"It's not just that I blame myself. Part of my soul died with him. That's the way this whole thing works. I can't be whole without him."

"He's the only one? Werewolves only get one mate? That sounds kind of ridiculous." Scott hated to think that Derek's only mate in the entire world was dead. There had to be another choice.

"Not exactly. It's possible to have other mates, but it's harder once the soul's been broken like that. Things are never going to be what they should have been."

"I'm sorry Derek. But it's kind of like that for all of us. We're all changed because of this. Life became something entirely different the day Stiles decided to…" Neither Scott nor Derek actually wanted that sentence finished, so Scott let the words die on his lips.

"We're all going to make it through this because you know that Stiles will murder us if we showed up in the afterlife too soon. You think any one of us has actually been doing okay for the past month? We're all falling apart and I think that we need to be a pack again. None of us can do this alone and I think your little decision not to fess up about how close you and Stiles were or- were going to be- is bad for both you and for the pack." Scott stared at Derek, trying to see if anything he was saying was getting through to the drunken alpha. Scott sighed but knew that Derek had been listening. "You're going to sober up tonight and we're calling a pack meeting tomorrow. We're all done doing this alone."


	11. Chapter 11

Scott left Derek's apartment desperate to talk to someone. His mind was racing with the massive amount of information that he just received and the massive amount of questions this information created. He got into Stiles's jeep and drove to the cemetery.

Scott started driving the jeep after the funeral when Jon handed Scott the keys to Stiles's jeep. "He would have wanted you to have it. Take care of it, okay? I mean, not like he ever took really good care of it or anything… just keep it running, okay?"

Scott felt weird driving it but he also felt at home. There were some days that driving the jeep was too painful, so Scott kept his bike for those days. Most days Scott could pull himself together enough to go to work, do extra summer homework, go for a run with Isaac, or watch TV with his mom. Life seemed dull but he kept busy. He needed to keep busy. If he had things to do then he wouldn't have time to think about the fact that he doesn't have a brother anymore. His mind could slip into thinking that the reason Scott hasn't hung out with Stiles is because he's too busy, not because Stiles is dead.

He climbed out of the jeep and walked to Stiles's grave. He'd avoided going back to the cemetery since the funeral. The tombstone was clean and beautiful. It matched Stiles' mother's. Stiles would have liked that. Small blades of grass had just started poking up through the dirt and the flowers surrounding the base of the tombstone were only a couple days old. Scott wasn't sure who's been making sure the flowers stay fresh, but he's thankful someone is. If he had to guess, it would be his own mother. She's the only one who seems to be functioning as close to normal as possible after all this, but that may only be because she has to.

Scott sat on the ground in front of the tombstone and traced the letters of his best friend's name. They had added "Stiles" in between the kid's first and last names. Scott gave a slight smirk as he thought about how annoyed Stiles would be that his whole first name was just sitting out there for the whole world to read.

"I'm sorry man." Scott didn't know if he was addressing the ground beneath him, the stone in front of him, or the air around him.

"I should have been there for you. You've just always been able to get through things. I just never thought you would do… this." Scott took a deep breath and tried not to cry.

"I just want to know why you didn't come to me. All those words you said to me in that motel parking lot, did they mean nothing. You kind of made yourself a hypocrite and now I kind of want to get out of this. I mean, if you can do it, I can too and it's not fair for you to say all that shit and save my life just to turn around and kill yourself." Scott could feel his anger rising up as he kept talking. He didn't think he was coming here to say all this. He just hadn't talked about it to anyone and his anger was eating him alive. He could feel the wolf wanting to come out and fight something, anything.

"But that doesn't matter…" Scott ran his hand through his hair and tried to calm himself. "Derek just told me a bunch of stuff about mates and honestly, the more I think about it, the more I think you two would have been good together. Did you know? I mean, if Derek was feeling something supernatural, you should have too, right? Or would it just feel like you had a crush on him? I don't know… I think he could have made you happy."

Scott pulled at the grass and dirt and wished he'd hear a response. He knew he was going to have to start talking about all the things he was feeling but he still wasn't ready to talk about it with anyone but his best friend.

Scott felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "I'll visit more often, alright?" Scott said as he pulled out his phone.

Scott headed back to the jeep as he took the call from Lydia.

"Hey Scott…" Lydia's voice was raw as if she'd been crying.

"Lydia, what's up? You okay?" Scott could sense the instability in her voice and he wondered if he should just drive over to her house.

"I'm fine. Just trying to deal with things, ya know? How are you?"

"About the same." He knew that everyone was feeling the same.

"Scott, I might need to tell the pack something… but I don't know quite what it is yet."

"Oh. Okay. Is it like, life threatening? Should we be trying to prevent something? I just talked to Derek today and… well there's a lot going on with that, but the point is we're having a pack meeting tomorrow. We can move it to like, right now, if you need, but Derek won't really be of any help-" Scott's mind started racing a mile a minute. He knew his mind worked better when in crisis. He was good at leading during dangerous times, not so much any other time.

"No. Scott, tomorrow is fine. Does everyone else know? And where the hell has Derek been? We haven't heard from him in weeks and now he's up and calling pack meetings?" Scott couldn't tell if Lydia was more concerned or angry.

"I haven't gotten around to telling everyone else. Derek left a few weeks back but then I guess he came back and didn't tell anyone. I went to go check-up on him 'cause I had the sense he was in town. He's doing horribly and he kept a lot of shit inside that made things a lot worse for him with Stiles. So I'm calling the pack meeting because it's about time we all deal with things."

"Okay Scott," Lydia sounded defeated. "I'll see you tomorrow. I'm glad you checked up on him."

"Yeah… me too. I'm thinking noon tomorrow. Everyone should be free."

"Sounds good. Hopefully I'll figure this all out by then."

"Let me know if you need anything Lydia." Scott had no idea what horrible banshee vibes she could be getting but he wasn't sure he was ready to find out.

He hung up with Lydia and decided to put it out of his mind as best he could and started calling the others.


End file.
